


inside

by joysince



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, let them be soft pls, sapnap is tired of their bs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29775417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joysince/pseuds/joysince
Summary: dream and george tackle moving day and the cottage-core aesthetic
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	inside

**Author's Note:**

> [for the ambience ♫](https://open.spotify.com/track/0f8eRy9A0n6zXpKSHSCAEp?si=hrnFfQ5UQgKRbl2KyNdVhA)

The idea was first brought up after Sapnap had come home from running errands an hour earlier than he said he would and caught them sprawled across the couch, Dream’s hand halfway up George’s shirt. It really wasn’t their fault, then, and it had been a long time coming anyway, so when Sapnap covers his eyes and walks right back out the front door, George meekly suggests that they should probably move out together. 

It isn’t until a full month later that they sign the lease for a condo ten minutes away, cardboard boxes hastily packed and shoved into a U-Haul truck. 

In an effort to bring some levity to their situation, Dream jokingly tells Sapnap, “You can say you’re gonna miss us. It’s okay, we’ll miss you too.”

“I’m not gonna miss you guys,” he replies, deadpan, focusing his attention back to the remaining boxes.

“Oh, come on. Of course you will.”

“Y’know you guys are literally just moving a neighborhood away, right? And I’m sure as fuck not gonna miss walking in on you two—” he gestures wildly around himself, flailing his arms before resting them at his sides, “—canoodling in the living room.”

Dream gasps, playing along, “We do not _canoodle_.”

“Sure. Would you prefer I say fucking instead?”

Dream gasps again, holding the pretense of being scandalized for a solid five seconds before dissolving into a fit of giggles, prompting Sapnap to do the same, until George finds them both wheezing on the sidewalk and yells at them to continue moving the boxes.

**

Their new place is slightly smaller than their previous place now that they no longer have to pretend they won’t be spending most of their time in the same room anyway. What it lacks in familiarity and a sense of lived-in-ness, it makes up for in a curious sort of charm: the window panes on the first floor all almost exclusively painted to look like vines, some leftover ceramic trinkets in the bathroom, the easy cream color painting all of the walls. Sapnap had called it “a mushroom-esque, cottage-core fever dream.” George had called it “lovely.” 

They take turns lugging the boxes inside, making light conversation in between. By the time they’re finished, the sun has already disappeared behind the trees around them, melting lazily into the ground.

Dream orders them pizza a few minutes after Sapnap leaves, citing the need to rest and “get away from your disgusting, lovey dovey looks at each other.” 

He sidles up to where George is leaning over the kitchen counter, drapes himself heavily across George’s shoulders. George barely acknowledges him, patting him once on the head dismissively like a misbehaving puppy, and then goes back to what he was doing on his phone. From the looks of it, he’s just scrolling through Twitter.

Dream huffs. He shoves his face more forcefully into George’s neck, pressing a few chaste kisses down the length of his nape, each lingering, more dragged out than the last. With each kiss, he feels George loosening up more, focusing less on his timeline and more on Dream. He smiles.

Eventually, George seems to give up pretending to ignore Dream’s presence; turns in Dream’s arms to face him, leans in slowly.

Right before their lips touch though, he pulls away slightly, smiling when Dream subtly chases after him. 

“You’re annoying,” he whispers, insult dulled by the brightness on his face.

“You’re an idiot,” Dream whispers back, closing the distance between them. George kisses back eagerly, tilts his head to the side so that the glide of their tongues is smoother, more relaxed. Dream hums into his mouth, goading him on. They break apart after a few seconds—minutes?—and Dream takes the opportunity to press open-mouthed kisses to the corner of George’s jaw, down to his collarbone. George makes a breathy sound, hands clawing down Dream’s back, clutching tightly whenever Dream sucks a little too hard on his skin. 

“Pizza—I think—the pizza you ordered, Dream.”

It takes Dream an embarrassingly long time to realize the doorbell rings, and even longer to detach himself from George’s neck. Already, he can see a red mark starting to bloom at the base of his neck. George always bruises so nice and pretty. 

“Dream.”

“Right. The pizza. I’ll get it.”

**

They get ready for bed together, brushing their teeth side-by-side in the bathroom upstairs. Dream watches George in the mirror, his eyes half-lidded, hair pulled back behind the cute cat-ear headband Dream had gotten him as a joke a few months ago. Like this, he looks unbelievably soft, almost ephemeral in the dim light of their— _their!—_ bathroom. 

Dream nudges him playfully, expecting reciprocal action, but instead, George wavers drowsily before resting his head on Dream’s shoulder.

Dream feels his heart melt.

“Aw, Georgie, are y’tired?” 

George nods a little, grip on his toothbrush loosening. 

“Can you finish brushing for me? I’ll carry you to bed after.”

George nods again, gripping his toothbrush more forcefully, jerking around his mouth, before lurching forward and spitting into the sink. He quickly spins around, motioning at Dream’s arms, pouting a little.

Dream laughs and indulges him; lets George loops his arms around his neck, hoisting him up by his legs. They tumble into the air mattress they had set up hours prior, too lazy to unroll their actual mattress. Dream kisses all over George’s face, all desperate, all reverent, until they’re both laughing, voices fading into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> [picture me as that one sonic meme]: my fucking god! these bitches gay! good for them! good for them.


End file.
